No stitching on Sunday.

Grammy and I have been living the grand life of late. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed our morning, afternoon and sometimes warmed-up evening coffee and we’ve shared some good eats together. I asked her on Saturday what her plans were for Sunday, “want me to thread your needle?” “OooOOooh nooOOoo-hoho Sissy—every stitch you stitch on Sunday you have to peck them out with your nose when you die,” she adamantly spouts. It is a sentiment partially corroborated by Laura, whose Italian Grandmother never sewed a stitch on the Sabbath.

Today, hours after the dreaded day of stitch-witchery, I discover Austin “craft queen” Jenny HartGadora wants to meet her, too. Wonder if she knows Elle? Maybe we can all get together some Sunday afternoon.

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